


Ray of Light

by Azellma



Series: Chains Anthology [4]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Fluff, the morning after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 03:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16846537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azellma/pseuds/Azellma
Summary: Reflections upon waking





	Ray of Light

**Author's Note:**

> One day, one of these will be about Charon, I promise. For now, here's one from Hancock's POV. I'm still getting the hang of how to write from the inside of his head. It is tough.

A bed upstairs in an abandoned house, a tin-can alarm strung up by the door. It had been a risk. That kinda made it more exciting.  
  
Turning ghoul hadn’t really made it harder to get humans into bed. He thought it would, to start with, but it turned out most of it was just confidence. Other ghouls _acted_ like no one wanted ‘em, that was their problem. It hadn’t taken Hancock long to work out that ghoul skin could drive humans crazy, if you knew what you were doing, and he’d been sleeping with both humans and ghouls long before he’d found that red coat and turned himself into who he was.  
  
She was different, somehow. Must be that _love_ thing.  
  
He hadn’t loved anyone since Pen’. There was too much risk involved. Even if they didn’t die on him, he’d just be waiting for that betrayal, for that knife in the back. Everyone was out for himself. He trusted his boys, especially Fahrenheit, but they looked to him as a leader. He couldn’t be _himself_ around them. He had to be Hancock. Couldn’t tell them who he was, or where he came from. They’d look at him different.  
  
She’d always been somethin’ else. From the moment she stepped into town there’d been something about her, something allurin’ and honest. Then she told Finn to get fucked and she’d turned from an innocent into a valkyrie and he knew he had to get into her head. And into her pants.  
  
Now he thought about it… why had he waited? He could have had her that day, just taken her hand and pulled her upstairs. But there’d been something intriguing about her that made him want to wait, to see what she was really made of. Who she really was.  
  
There was no one in this place like her. No one this compassionate and adventurous and honest. No one this fucking _real._ She _helped_ people. Even when they couldn’t pay. Sure, she stole from time to time, but not from anyone who couldn’t afford it, and besides, they oughtta keep a better eye on their stuff.  
  
And most of all she took him out of himself. When the darkness in his head got too much and he wanted to crawl into a gutter and shoot himself full of chems until he passed out, she got him out of Goodneighbor and found a way to remind him what they were doing out here. That there was a better world waiting to be built, and she wanted to build it with him. That all the horrors could be fixed if they worked at it. And, maybe most important, she reminded him that there was adventure and joy and _fun_ in this place. She made the world better. She was vengeance and mercy.  
  
Falling in love had just been natural. First there’d been the sway of those hips, the light in those eyes. He’d flirted, ‘cause he _always_ flirted, and the sweet little blush and the way she ducked her head… fucking _Christ._ She weren’t an innocent, but sometimes she almost seemed that way. Like how she looked at the world through a vault-dweller’s eyes. Everything was new to her. And even with her kid and all that shit… he’d realised pretty early on he wanted to be the one to show her every last bit of beauty the wasteland had to offer.  
  
But by then it felt like it was too late to take her hand and pull her up the stairs. No sense hurting himself by sleeping with her and getting all entangled when he knew she couldn’t feel the same way. There were plenty of other sweet young things in the wasteland, if that’s what he wanted. He and Sloan… they were friends, and he didn’t want to ruin that. Besides, it was one thing to fuck a ghoul. Actually being in a relationship with one? She had a house in Diamond City, made a place for herself there. He didn’t want to wreck that. And he didn’t want to chain her down, ‘specially not to someone with a face like his. He figured he could keep his feelings under wraps. Didn’t want to scare her off…  
  
So when she’d asked him if they were more than friends he’d… well, he hadn’t done anything as pathetic as _freak out_ about it, but he’d been surprised. Had he been _that_ obvious? Fuck. He’d assured her he didn’t want to ruin what they’d got, that it didn’t mean anything. Just an attraction. Could you blame him? With a figure like that? And sure, maybe she was curious, maybe they still coulda had some kind of friends-with-benefits deal… but he didn’t want that. He was in way too deep for that to work.  
  
It had taken a handful of mentats and her literally _kissing_ him before he actually caught on. Midnight and a clear winter sky, sitting close with their breath steaming, perched on the roof above Goodneighbor’s streets. She’d just flat-out said it. Just like that. She _wanted_ to be more than friends.  
  
It shoulda felt like the world had fallen into place, but instead it felt… heavy. Wrong. Like he’d tricked her into something, made her ask for something she didn’t want. Fooled her into forgetting the kind of person he really was. The crap in his head, the shit he'd done, the regrets… _this_ was what she wanted? This weren’t just a night or two of sex. Did she really want to tie herself to _him?_  
  
He needed to know if she meant it, if this was real. So he gave her an out, the old ghoul cliché: this ain’t a face you wanna wake up to. As soon as he said it, it didn’t feel like just a cliché any more. He knew what people liked about him, and it weren’t his face. If she fucking lied to him about it, if she _pretended_ this was what she wanted, to spare his feelings or some shit, then he didn’t want to be with her. He wouldn’t blame her for not wanting to wake up next to a face like his, but he didn’t want to be with her if that was how she felt.  
  
The kiss chased all his doubts away. From that moment she was his. He had her, and he weren’t letting go.  
  
It still took a while to get her into bed. It’d been a long time since he’d had anyone special and he wanted the moment to be perfect. She weren’t just another conquest. He wanted her alone. Out of Goodneighbor, where there weren’t any bullshit about being Mayor to tarnish anything.  
  
So. Here they were.  
  
It’d been different, in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Like it weren’t just fucking. It reminded him a little of Penelope and that _hurt,_ because he hated thinking about Pen’. All the regrets and the if-onlys and the things that could have been.  
  
Sloan stirred, sighing in her sleep, and Hancock stopped breathing, just for a moment. _Look_ at her. So goddamn fucking stunning. She was out of her mind, wasting her time with him.  
  
He had a broad definition of perfect, and last night had fallen into it. It didn’t matter that they’d had to shove an armoire up against the door, or string some tin cans up just in case. They’d lit some candles and drank wine out of the bottle, passing it back and forth, music low on her pip-boy radio. They’d taken their precious time about it. He started off gentle, testing the waters. From the way she swore when he slipped a hand into her panties he knew she’d never been with a ghoul before. And then, when he’d pinned her hands above her head and saw the spark in her eyes… sure, she _looked_ like a lady, but she was a fucking _hellcat_ in bed. She rose to the challenge. Hardly anyone pushed back the way she did, and it lit a fire in him.  
  
They’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms. She usually woke before he did, so when he’d opened his eyes to find her still sleeping it was like a gift. He’d been awake for an hour, just listening to her breathe, the sun shining in through the window and bathing her in light. Watching her lying in the sunbeam, naked and perfect… it made him feel soft. But soft in a _good_ way, and that was weird. He'd never wanted to feel soft before.  
  
She shifted, turning towards him, and she screwed her face up as she woke, yawning until her jaw clicked. Then she opened her eyes, and for a moment Hancock was hit with the urge to run. Too much emotion, all at once; love and need and fear. His throat tightened, and he stammered out the first thing that came to his head. Of all things, the phrase his mother’d said every morning when she opened the curtains.  
  
“G’morning, sunshine.”  
  
She smiled.

 

 


End file.
